


Fully Completely

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Kissing, M/M, Marking, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Pollen, Without the Ensuing Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first time in a long career that Han's transporting the real thing when it comes to sex pollen, so of course it spills, of course. Now he gets to deal with two stoned men getting busy on the floor of the <i>Falcon</i>'s cargo hold while the ruptured container empties out.</p><p>This is just splendid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fully Completely

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to @orchis and @deputychairman for the encouragement & inspiration, and to G. for the beta
> 
> sorry to the Hip for highjacking the title.

This was a favor. This was supposed to be easy. _Sure, Leia, light of my life, red of my blood, your two mascots can hitch a ride back with me. It isn't as if I'm a professional with _precious_ cargo and a deadline._

Not Han. No, just the resistance's crankiest transit service, that's him.

"You didn't," Han says when the alarm sounds and he finds the mess in the hold. "That's the kasia, isn't it? That's my retirement fund spilling out over the floor."

Kasia is both an aphrodisiac and a flavor agent; it's so expensive, it can be anything you damn well want it to be.

"It just happened!" Finn insists, red spice smeared down his face already. 

Cursing under his breath, then, realizing, fuck that, this requires full-on highly audible cursing, _shouting_ it, Han puts the cargo bay into lockdown, isolates the O2 line, coms Chewie to let him know what's going on (and gets a nice earful from a suddenly prudish Wookiee). He also shrugs off his good new jacket. Things are about to get a lot stickier around here.

He hauls over the bedroll kept back here for when there's live cargo along with the medi-kit. He fills two canteens for the idiot children who can't keep their hands to themselves - both off each other _and_ his cargo - lest dehydration take hold. 

"You have any idea how much that shit commands? Wholesale, not just street?" Han asks and takes a long drink. "And here you are _fingerpainting_ each other with it."

Poe hands Finn the other canteen. "The container gave way. No fault of ours."

"Yeah, right." Kasia is triple-packed, vacuum-sealed for freshness. "Hutts're going to have my head. _Again_."

They should just mount him back on the wall. Never should have taken him down.

"We didn't do it," Poe says. Bantha-fat wouldn't melt in that mouth; the look he's giving Han is all wide-eyed innocence, even a tinge of concern.

Ben used to do the exact same thing: you'd find him right in the middle of a disaster zone and he'd look up at you, blinking big brown eyes, and lie through his fucking milk teeth. I didn't do it, Papa! I don't know what happened!

Then again, Ben still does that. Stakes are a lot higher now; the disasters in question wipe out entire padawan cohorts and attempt patricide. So maybe Han ought to be grateful that all he has to deal with now is two stoned men getting busy on the floor of the _Falcon_ 's cargo hold while the ruptured container spews high-grade, uncut kasia.

The kasia threads through the air now, too, long tendrils of it that taste like blood and rain.

It starts to degrade upon exposure to oxygen, so while they're stuck here for the next while, there's no chance of overdose or any other ugliness. 

"Neither of you has a shred of respect for me, or my ship? Nothing left? Nothing you can _fake_?" Han says, shaking his head, sinking down onto the stool. "Fuck me sideways."

They're laughing over a private joke, making out, twisted around each other so thoroughly it's hard to see where one ends and the other begins.

But Poe, grinning, shaking the hair from his eyes, turns to him. "Why, you offering?"

"Nice try, Dameron."

Poe leans in, hand curling around Han's neck, pulling him down and into a kiss that doesn't end, that slides and melts into his tongue over the hollow of Han's cheek, rasping the stubble. “How about it, _Captain_?”

"Oh, hell. Hell, _no_ ," Han says.

Finn's holding Poe from behind, mouth on his neck. "What? What did you say?"

"Your boyfriend thinks he's cute," Han tells Finn. Damn goodlooking kid, he really is, big soft eyes and a mouth you'd like to get lost in, move into, make your happy new forever home. In Finn's arms, Poe shrugs, then ducks his head when Finn bites his earlobe. "Thinks he can take advantage of the situation, no consequences."

"We're stuck here, you said so yourself," Finn replies. "Until it's out of our systems?"

"Kid --" Han kicks out his legs and leans back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "There's stuck and then there's _stuck_."

"Or," Poe says, laughing, "in Binary, blep-beep."

"Thanks," Han says and doesn't open his eyes. "That was a very useful addition to this pointless conversation."

"You're welcome."

He can hear them kissing. It's _loud_ , long wet slurps and breathy little grunts, like this is their first time, like they're fucking younglings, starry-eyed with first love or some shit.

The heat of the kasia has been gathering in Han's sinuses, the back of his throat, and it's running fast now, down his chest and arms, twining through his gut and around his cock. He has to laugh: the first time he transports _genuine_ kasia, of course it spills. Of course. Why would it work out any other way? Several times he's traded, made a nice little profit off, the synthetic and the fake stuff. But no. The real stuff, the sort of cargo you could retire on, he's never going to win.

"Yeah," Finn whispers, and there's the rasp of fasteners, a thud of boot. "Go for it."

Han opens his eyes. Shirtless, Finn's about as broad as the side of a carrier, just endless, dark skin smeared with kasia, streaked with sweat. He looks up, gaze unfocused, but smiles when he sees Han looking at him.

"What's he going for?" Han asks, indicating Dameron with his chin.

Finn strokes Poe's hair. "He wants to fuck you."

Pushing up to his feet, then crouching there between them, Poe rolls his eyes. "What I _said_ was, I wanted to kiss you some more." Finn cocks his head, looking at him quizzically; Poe squeezes his shoulder, then glances at Han. "The fucking comes later."

"Later, never, pretty much the same," Han says, "sure."

"But kissing's okay, right?" Finn asks. When they both turn to him, he smiles, licks his lower lip, pulls himself up a little straighter. "Just trying to get a sense of the --"

"Ground rules?"

"Personal boundaries."

Finn blinks, then seems to struggle to open his eyes again. "Lay of the land." He winces when he shifts, then adjusts his crotch. "Guys, um. This stuff is _strong_."

"Yeah, babe," Poe says, arm going back around Finn. "It really is."

He kisses Finn again, evidently forgetting Han entirely. But Han forestalls complaining since, forgotten, he still gets to see this - Poe's hand skimming up and down Finn's streaked chest, fingers spreading, gripping at his pecs so his thumb can twang at one nipple until Finn's back is arching and the nipple's standing up, royally dark, peaking between Poe's thumb and forefinger.

The kasia burns slow and steady under Han's skin, fanned by the scent coming off them, the vision they're making together, the damn _noise_ of it.

Finn shifts again, never breaking the kiss, but reaching into his pants, opening them with a quick tug. His eyes wheel, find Han, and he smiles, pulling Poe a little to the side so there's clear line of sight.

Poe whispers to him and Finn laughs, helplessly, shoulders lifting.

"No, you know what? Fuck this spectator shit." Han kicks Poe's leg out of the way and sinks down before Finn. 

Finn's brows go up, his lips part. His palm, damp and sticky on Han's, pulls him in, as he sits up and cranes into the kiss.

Han knows this would never be happening if these two hadn't gotten into the kasia. He knows, further, that there will be plenty of time, later, for guilt and regret, perhaps even some panic. Definitely some panic. But it's not later yet, and knowledge of that sort is rapidly giving way in the face of the savory heat, under the hands of these two.

Poe butts into the kiss, getting a grip on the back of Han's hair and angling him better. Anyone other than Finn would object, but Finn just smiles a little, touching Han's side, loosening his shirt, opening it and getting contact with his skin. 

Han groans into Poe's mouth and Poe replies, chuckling, turning to say something low and private to Finn. Finn has his hands under the back of Han's shirt, his mouth on his cheek, and there's a long, swaying moment in which Han could dissolve away right here. He leans back against Finn's impressive chest, taking Poe with him, extends that moment with his hand down the back of Poe's pants and his hips working hard, grinding up.

"Get it out," he mutters when Poe reaches between them, rubbing first Han's hard-on, then his own.

"Easy now," Poe replies, and kisses Finn, flattening Han between them. 

Finn, however, isn't an obnoxious arrogant dick like some people, and he's pushing Han's breeches open and down, stroking him lightly, even as Poe fucks his tongue in and out of his mouth.

"Your boyfriend's a good man," Han tells Poe, lifting his hips and fucking Finn's fist.

Finn, startled, shifts slightly, kissing Han now, stroking him hard as he grinds up into Han's ass. Smirking, Poe sits back, spreading his legs, touching himself. "He's the best," he says, and, damn it, these two are _disgusting_ , because in response, Finn chuckles into Han and jerks him faster, looking up, over at Poe.

"I'd be happy to leave you be," Han says and tries to pull away, but Finn's grasp is too fucking good, tight and sticky, intricate in its twists, _attentive_. You could even say nurturing, damn it. "Just say the word."

"Don't be stupid," Poe says, bending over, pushing that smart, obnoxious mouth everyone thinks is so special halfway down Han's dick. He meets Finn's hand, sucks on his thumb and swallows around the head.

Han's skull bounces against Finn's shoulder, several times, until he gives up and grabs at Poe's sweaty hair to hold him in place and pump up and deep and _in_.

"He talks about this," Finn whispers, mouth and voice hot in Han's ear. "About you. You know that, right?"

Han can't answer. He takes risks, sure, but he's rarely outright _suicidal_ , at least consciously, deliberately, so. Instead he twists his fingers in Poe's hair and slows his hips and turns, mouth meeting Finn's plush, luscious one, and _sinks_ into it all.

Behind, slightly underneath him, Finn's dick is throbbing and grinding; Poe's licking Han's balls, moaning for it, reaching back to finger Han open as he shoves his lips down the shaft again. He's got long, thin fingers, and they crook just right, find what they're looking for, tease Han around in tight, dizzying circles.

And Finn's kissing him. Finn's kissing him like he kisses Poe, like he's worth his weight in precious metals and uncut kasia, like the kid _likes_ what he tastes and sees, just plain likes him. He's got an arm wrapped around Han's chest, fingers raking through hair, pulling up more kasia-burn and tangling it up, then spreading it with the flat of his palm, soothing him, only to stoke it fresh all over again.

"Kid," Han says, breaking for breath, tugging Poe's head back and pulling off his fingertips. "You need some taking care of."

Poe's sleepy-eyed and red-lipped. "I'm good."

"Not you," Han says, impatiently. " _Finn_."

"Oh," Poe says, brightening up. "Oh, yeah." He crawls forward, up Finn's other leg as Han pulls himself over to make room. "Hey, buddy."

Finn clasps Poe's face in his hands and kisses him like it's their reunion. Kisses him sweet and deep, although Poe must taste of little else than Han's dick, even sucks his cheek, licks his chin. "Hey."

"Yeah, yeah." Han plucks at Finn's trousers, gets him to lift his ass enough so they can get tugged all the way down. "Beautiful, touching, heartrending."

"Aw," Poe says, voice thick with sarcasm, but he kisses Han again, fiercely, clutching at his shoulder, as they sink down on either side of Finn's dick, and then the kiss widens, admits the main attraction, and _fuck_ everything, but the kid is gorgeous right down to very last detail.

"Much prettier than you," Han tells Poe before licking a single perfect line from root to head, beating Poe to the head, taking him in, tasting the kasia-spicy sweat and pre-come leaking free and fast.

"No argument there," Poe eventually replies, hand on Finn's sac, tongue wrapping around the shaft, darting over Han's chin.

"Guys," Finn says, voice strained, ass off the floor. "Guys, come on --"

"Little gliders in their burrows agree," Han says in a singsong, cuffing Poe's ear.

They work him together until he's trembling nonstop under them, hands restless on their shoulders and in their hair, his voice cracking into nonsense. They work him until he's digging his nails into them, pleading, and then, together, they pull back. His cock jumps in the air and he moans, pulling one leg up. 

"You should ride him," Poe tells Han as he presses his hand on Finn's hollowing belly.

"I beg your --" Han stops, looks at them, breathes into the heat burrowing from spine to dick and around his hole. His heart creaks and thuds against its cage. Finn lifts his head, gaze finding Han's, hand reaching for him again, inviting him. "What the hell."

That surprises Poe at least, knocks out a bitten-off shout that modulates into a groan as Han swings one leg over Finn's waist to straddle him.

"You okay, kid?"

"Solo," Finn says, blinking up at him, licking his lips. Han kisses him before reaching back to line him up; Poe's already there, one hand on Finn's hip, the other working at Han's crack. " _Han_."

"That's me," Han says, teeth together, breath caught high in his throat. Poe wraps his arm around Han's waist, keeps spreading and fingering him until the heat's clouding his vision and his legs are shaking, and then he drops his head , chin hitting his chest, and closes his fingers on the rounded strength of Finn's shoulder. "Here I am, here I go."

He sinks, stops, shifts, and Poe's there - Poe's probably fucking _loving_ this, shit-eating grin on his beautiful face - with more bacta-slick and his teeth grazing Han's shoulder blades. HIs fingers are slim and flexible, while Finn's cock is fever-hot and _solid_ , and it takes another half-forever push it inside, for Han to breathe out and lose all the extraneous stuff and make room for this, joy and heat and pleasure that keeps opening him up, fanning him wide and brilliant.

Bright as Finn's smile and eyes as he holds Han's hips and rocks up into him, moving less like a man and more like a song, a river, something mobile and preternatural.

Except, of course, Han thinks, shaking his head, the sweat flying off the ends of his hair, that's the whole point. He _is_ a man, a strong and gorgeous one, hands that hold and hips that fuck and voice that speaks, croons out Han's name and Poe's. He trills their names together, like together they're someone else, someone better and purer, impossible.

Poe's right behind him now, kissing Han's neck, his jaw, his mouth, one hand on Han's dick, the other stroking Finn's shaft as it emerges and disappears into Han.

"He's good," Poe's saying, asking, "he's so good, isn't he?" and Han nods, rolls his eyes.

Obviously he's good, he's wonderful, he's pushing Poe's hand away and jerking Han now, his other hand clutching Han's thigh, massaging the muscles there. His mouth is curving back over his teeth, his neck is arched, buttress-tendons flying high, he's somehow handsome and glorious, endearing and alluring. You want to care for him every bit as much as you want him pounding up into you, your name in his mouth, your cock in his hand.

Han folds himself over, seeking Finn's mouth with his own, desperate to feel it again. Finn kisses like he's just discovering it, like this is the best thing in the galaxy. Despite the fact that he's also shoving himself _up_ Han's hole, fucking him full and breathless, the kiss, deep and wet as it is, remains a little innocent, thoroughly sweet.

Poe scrapes his nails down the length of Han's back, rakes them back up, and down again. He pushes Han a little higher on Finn's hips, spreads his legs wider, teases his hole with two lubed fingers.

"Dameron," Han says, fully intending to make it sound low and warning. _Don't you even **think** about it_ , he was going to say, but then Finn slows his thrusts, digs his fingers into Han's waist and moans, and says, "please? Oh, _fuck_ , please? Together?"

The kid might as well be glowing, wide eyes and pleading mouth, bottomless.

"You heard him," Han says, looking over his shoulder. His chin slips off, he's so sweaty. "You going to leave him disappointed?"

Half of Poe's mouth lifts, sarcastic, even, faintly, mean. That's an expression, Han knows all too well, he doesn't give most people. He's nice to most people; they deserve it. Not Han, not really, not any more, if ever. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good," Han says.

"After all --" Poe says, hand on the hollow of Han's back, fingers spreading him, cockhead rubbing down his crack, "I learned a lot from you? But somehow never that."

Han could form several choice responses to that. He will, later, go over them, use them to salt the regret and guilt that will be coming due. 

At the moment, all he can manage is, "such a sweetheart, can't believe you ever got --"

Got away, he was going to say, but Finn's moans are deafening and his own are growing and the burn is more than kasia, the burn and need are his own, swelling, pushing back onto Poe's dick, pulling him in, shaking him around both of them.

He can't see for the sweat in his eyes, can't breathe around the noise in his mouth.

This isn't stretched, or split, but unhinged: his body is different, space is more forgiving, he's a vessel and channel both. He rears back, caught against Poe, shuddering down. He collapses forward, flush atop Finn, for Poe to fuck piston-straight. He's bending Finn's cock, holding him caught deep, and then he's surging up and down, forward, and back, one cock scraping in, the other pushing past.

He's hollow, irradiated. They're fucking each other, calling out, babbling stupid pretty nonsense at each other, through him. Sweat paints Finn's face, spices his mouth, slicks Poe's chest and glues Han there for agonizing, perfect moments. Their dicks are stacked, then side by side, spreading him open wider, filling and scouring him so full of heat and need that Han's choking on it.

They're going to come, he's going to taste it, it's going to come out his pores.

He _wants_ them to come, he loves them, the kasia is working through his brain now, radiant and warm. He loves everyone and just wants the best for them. He's a saint, he's _Luke_ , he's the best version, he's caught here, embraced by another two heroes who think he belongs here, believe he's worthy.

His spine isn't much more than a sodden rope; he's only upright thanks to Poe's arm around his waist. He falls forward, chin hitting Finn's cheek, teeth scraping his upper lip. Finn groans, turns it gracefully into a kiss, wraps his arm around Han's neck.

"Do it on me," Han's whispering to him, tasting him, sucking on his tongue. "Come all over me. _Do it_."

Finn's smile drowns him; his arm tightens, holds him close. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Han says, closes his eyes and buries his face for three more thuds of his heart against the kid's neck. 

Finn lets him go, his hands finding Han's waist and lifting, easing, him off. They're talking to each other again, moaning and loving, and Han sags against Poe's chest, head back. If he opened his eyes, he'd see the dark empty bulkhead above. Past that, space, more empty black, cold. Vertiginous.

Just a scrap of warmth all the way down here, these two rearranging slightly, Han's hole swallowing it all, his mouth open and empty. 

He's in Poe's lap - and that's a laugh and a fucking half, one he'll have at his own expense _later_ \- with Poe's mouth all over his neck and jaw while his dick pulses and pushes inside Han with each breath. 

"Open your eyes?" Finn asks, gentle and firm, and there he is, kneeling, reaching out, cupping Han's cheek even as he jerks himself raggedly. "Watch."

"Watching," Han says and Poe moans under him, stroking Han awkwardly, teeth closing in his shoulder.

Finn's cock jumps in his big hand, his teeth catch his lip, and he shoots with a gut-emptying groan that sounds like sorrow and relief as much as pleasure. 

"Please, baby," Poe says, voice cracking, and Han shakes at the sound.

The come wells over Finn's fist, spatters Han's belly, catches some of his chest hair.

The whole time, his other hand is on Han's face, thumb on his mouth, and, coming down, shaking, he's kissing Han now, desperate for it, rubbing the rest of his come into Han's skin.

Poe's fucking him harder, and harder, panting, teeth worrying at Han as Finn wraps his arms now around both of them, gathering them in.

Bearing down, squeezing as hard as the fluttering shreds of his will allow him, Han urges him on, feels the drag of dick and slap of balls as Poe gets close, then closer yet, and it's Finn who talks him through it, who kisses Han and tips his head back so Poe can see his face: "look who you're fucking, look how much he loves it.."

Poe's palms skate, zig-zagging, up and down Han's chest until, finally, one grabs at the sticky hair, the other at Finn's bicep, and he shoves forward, howling.

Finn lies on his side, arm around Han's hip, mouth gentle, so soft, over his numb-agonized cock; Poe eases them down, breath rattling in Han's ear, until the three of them are curved together like a sigil, Finn's eyes gazing up, his cheek full, his tongue loving.

Poe's still inside, slipping, twitching, but his hands' touch is tender, stroking slow and soft up Han's chest while Finn swallows around his dick and smiles. Poe reaches down, two fingers on the lump it makes in Finn's cheek, his neck, and that's it, that's the moan and sigh that tugs Han over the edge, sensation cascading out and down, hollowing him out.

"Fuck," Han says at some point. "Well. That's just great."

They're almost all the way off the bedroll, splayed out over the cargo floor, kasia drifting in the drafts above.

Poe slides out; eventually he stands, joints popping, and pulls Finn back up onto the bedroll. He's just as skinny, knobby-jointed, as he ever was, only more heavily lined. Tireder, but also handsomer. Radiant, damn it. Finn, sighing, rolls over to plant his face against Poe's chest; he clings to Poe, ass out, strong back relaxing into placid breadth.

Wincing - his _pores_ hurt, he needs to sleep for a month, preferably in a bacta tank - Han fumbles around for one of the canteens. The pain studs the thick, sweet haze of pleasure still wrapping him up, muffling his thoughts.

After he's taken a long swallow, he sits down on the far corner of the bedroll. He slaps the side of Poe's head lightly. "So sweet, look at you two. Sickening."

"Could've had this," Poe whispers. His fingertips dance down Finn's arm. His eyes are shadowed. "You know that, same as me."

"Never," Han says, combing Poe's hair back, kissing his temple, and lying back. "Not in a million years."


End file.
